


in your world

by xxcaribbean



Category: One Direction (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Gen, Language, OT5, Racism, one direction - Freeform, zayn!centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxcaribbean/pseuds/xxcaribbean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zayn knows the hate he receives, and sometimes he takes it to heart, but he should’ve known all along that the boys have his back no matter what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in your world

Zayn remembers when there weren’t any stares, when there wasn’t a security guard at his side at all times and when he could travel to a shop in the city without being bombarded by crazed fan girls screaming his name.

He also remembers a time when he hadn’t been bullied so often either. He’d taken care of those smart-ass comments that kids in school would make via after a few fights to which they’d mostly leave him alone.

It’s only in the past two years that he’s had to deal with racism and the like because of his looks.

There’s other comments too, about how ugly he is, how his voice is quite shit and doesn’t offer anything in regards to the band. There are also times that Zayn sees words about his choice in tattoos and his clothes and sometimes it’s too much, too many opinions and people who think they have a right into his life, to say things to try and bring him down.

Because of it though, it causes Zayn to forget twitter, to forget the magazines, to forget the internet altogether because he’d much rather live in a world, in a bubble that is safe, where nothing will harm him.

He’s dreading the moment he accidentally stumbles across any kind of scorn geared towards him, to see the spew of hate. And as much as he’d rather convince himself that the positive comments out weight the negative, that simply isn’t true sometimes given the fact that the hate sticks with him far longer than the praise does.

It’s become a cycle now. Zayn needs to hear positive reassurement every so often (not that he’s arrogant or anything) just to make sure that he’s decent enough to be in a famous boy band.

He’s not the only one that experiences hate though; he’s sure of it because the other lads talk about it, laugh about it too and how absurd some of the shit people say is, but Zayn can’t do that. He can’t find any of it funny because how is being racist and saying such derogatory terms about his beliefs something he can just brush off? It’s ignorance as much as it is blatant hate.

Zayn also knows they talk about him too. The other boys will talk about him whenever he’s not around. It’s not like it’s anything bad either, but he knows they worry about him. He’s silent too often, and he knows that they know about the hate that is sent his way, but they don’t talk about it with him, and Zayn’s always left to assume that they want him to approach them first, not sure of themselves and their ability to comfort Zayn all on their own.

But tonight is different and everything changes when Zayn stares up at a smiling fan, signing his name on her CD. The line is almost over, and there’s only a few girls left, some of them trembling and trying to catch their breath before they meet the boys, and Zayn smiles even wider at it all.

“You’re amazing,” she says.

Zayn ducks his head and tries to stifle the smile, but it doesn’t work. He beams, eyes scrunching up, teeth exposed.

“Thank you,” he says softly. There’s a sparkle in both his eye and the girl in front of him, and they share a moment of pure happiness until she’s forced to move on to Harry who is standing next to Zayn in the lineup.

The next girl approaches, and Zayn still smiles. It’s not as bright as the one he’d just shared with the girl who’s now gushing over Harry, but it’s pleasant all the same.

Though it’s not returned and Zayn hesitates but manages to keep the grin there.

“Hello,” he says, and he makes a move to reach for the CD the girls got in her hand, but she pulls it away from him, holding it close against her chest as if she wouldn’t want him to touch it.

He’s confused at first, and maybe that’s not the object she wanted him to sign so he apologizes to her and asks if there’s something else she wanted him to write his name on but she shakes her head rapidly and frowns.

“I don’t want some dirty, terrorist of a Muslim like you anywhere near my stuff.” She scoffs and holds her head up haughtily. “You don’t belong here anyway, just a fucking loser.”

His face had fallen at the first sign of the insult, and he’d even felt Harry tense up beside him, their arms brushing up against one another.

Zayn can only find it in himself to blink, lick his lips and process what’s been said.

He’d like to say something back, and he wonders where the person he once was, the one who’d knock someone’s teeth in if they so much as called him anything other than his name, has gone. But the person he’d once been and the person he is now are different. Zayn feels much weaker, much more sensitive to the things around him and the ways of the world, and he fights back the growing tears because as she continues to look at him, he can feel the millions of words piling up against his heart and carving a knife right through it too.

There’s movement then, a whirlwind of action, but Zayn doesn’t care, just grips his sharpie tightly in his hand until hands are on him and he’s being pulled into someone’s chest.

At one point, the sharpie falls onto the floor and Zayn wraps his hands around who he can tell is Louis, the oldest of their group and the one that is now rubbing circles into his back as silent tears well up and spill over into the crook of the other lads neck.

It’s not too long after that that he feels the other boys crowding around him. They’re in one of their infamous hugs where all five of them are somehow touching one another, comforting them in the best way they know how.

There are little whispers of endearments, fingers running down his arms and his back, through his hair and wiping away his tears, and Zayn feels so grateful for these boys, to have them, to know that they’re there for him no matter what.

“We love you, Zayn, just as you are.”

And he nods as he grips Louis tightly, as he settles into the feeling of warmth and love and something so profound that shakes him to his core.

He’s got them, a family and friends and people to rely on, and even if he’s quiet, even if he doesn’t say what he’s thinking out loud all the time, Zayn knows they’ll be there for him regardless.


End file.
